Buffy's Two Hundred
by Reallybored2
Summary: Buffy and the Scoobies salvage and rebuild a lost fleet of starships.
1. Chapter 1

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Disclaimer: Let's start off with the fact that I own nothing here! George Lucas and his bunch own _Star Wars_ and all related materials and characters. Joss Whedon and his gang own _Buffy The Vampire Slayer_ and all related materials and characters. Aesop created _The Tortoise and The Hare_.

Um, let me say that this story is a continuation of the story **Not Just Another Pretty Blond**.

I warn you right now, there's really nothing interesting in this chapter; most of it is on the 'blah' level. Even the secondary story is 'blah'. But it is a necessary opening for the rest of the story.

Given my view of it, don't be surprise or blink when I edit portions of it, or even replace the entire chapter, as I did with the fifth chapter of **Not Just Another Pretty Blond**.

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Summary: Buffy and the Scoopies salvage and rebuild a lost fleet of starships.

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Buffy's Two Hundred

"Xander, please!" Buffy begged. Her green eyes big, and her pout on full wattage. "Pretty please?"

Internally, Xander staggered under the power of both the eyes and the pout-But he had to be strong and resolve about it, damn it! "No! Buffy, you don't need a couple of hundred spaceships!"

"They're starships! Not spaceships!" Buffy corrected, in outrage. "Besides, I only wanna a few . . ."

Xander slowly shook his head. "Yeah, you see . . .anyone else . . .and they'll buy that-But this is the Xandman you're talking to here-Two _hundred_ is not a few. And, since we're being exact here, they're _warships_, not just starships-So . . .Why do you _really_ need those ships?"

They stared hard at each other until-

"Fine!" Buffy finally spat out, changing tactics. She crossed her arms and glared at Xander. "You want to know? I'm bored. With summer here, I'll like to have some harmless, but challenging hobby. And since raising an army of flesh eating zombies is currently out of the question, I decided to settle on a mechanical and technical challenge-Ripping and cutting into two hundred dud warships and redesigning them into something Supreme Commander of the Republic fleet Revan would have been proud to command!"

"Okaay," Xander drawled. Wait, what did Buffy mean by '_Currently out of the question'_? Sure, he might be experiencing feelings of paranoia . . . assuming Buffy was innocent-But this was Buffy/Revan! Zombies-did something happen and he missed it? Hmm, whatever Buffy was up to with that, it had to wait. "So . . .What? You're planning an invasion of some kind?" He half joked. "I thought you retired from the warlord game."

Buffy snorted and bounced over to the sofa; she threw herself into it and wriggled about on the cushion until she was comfortable. Buffy leaned back and absently began toying with the fringes of one of the throw pillows. "Game-That's the key word. You know the Trio and their stupid role playing games?" Xander nodded. "They and other magically incline geeks have taken it to a whole new level. Instead of arguing about which movie's or which T. V. show's toys or ships are more powerful, they build their own versions of the stupid things and fight it out-Winner get a free shopping spree through the multi-verse's biggest, and most expensive department stores and shopping malls!"

"Ah," Xander smirked in understanding and some relief. "And you feel it's the perfect way to get new shoes and humiliate a few good geeks?"

"Yep!"

"Alright!" Xander grinned. "I'm with ya!" Andrew Wells! Eat your own action figures!

Four days later, Buffy and the Scoobies stood on the observation deck, staring in silent dismay at the two hundred warships, floating in the protective embrace of the shipyards. The hidden spacestation and shipyard was anchored somewhere around the planet Jupiter's gigantic shadow.

"Maybe they're not that bad . . .?" Murmured Willow optimistically.

"Oh, they're that bad," said Buffy, grimly. "A pathetic excuse for a power plant. Weak, almost non-existing shields and wiring so inefficient it usually takes a crew of six _thousand_ to man one-But wait! They fixed it, so, now, they need a tiny crew of _only_ twenty-two hundred. As for firepower . . .Turbo lasers, laser cannons, quad lasers-And, all of them so under powered that some smaller, cargo transports out there can actually punch holes in the stupid things!"

Xander sighed, closed his eyes and gently and slowly, banged his head against the observation window. "Are you sure they're not needed in their home dimension?" He asked hopefully.

"Nope," Buffy said flatly. "I made _certain_ to snatch them from a dimension where they wouldn't be needed-So, now, they're all ours."

"Crap."

"Hey! Hey! Turn those frownie faces upside down!" Willow chided. "Take this as, as an opportunity to do something about those flaws-Get the ships up to our standards! We have the time, the energy and the resources to do this thing!"

A moment of silence, and then Buffy grimaced and shrugged one shoulder. Xander gave a slight nod. But neither was optimistic about their _small_ project.

Five weeks later, the Slayer and the Scoopies stood on another observation deck and silently watched two hundred ships begin their transformation from expensive jokes, to formidable warships.

Each ship soon began to glow with a greenish cast-Their hulls darkening and thickening, becoming fluid and viscous, expanding outwards; details became indistinct and nonexistent as the ships' outer hulls seemed to balloon into a cocoon of swirling greenish energy.

For _three_ weeks, each ship had undergone a series of scans-The scans deep and thorough enough to penetrate down to the subatomic level. Every portion of each individual ship was intimately and deeply studied, understood and known. Hundreds of different materials, compounds, natural and artificial, were cataloged and considered. Then, they were either salvaged or discarded during the redesign process. Ribbons of energy, running through every construction involved in the ships' creation, came under the sharp and critical eyes and Force senses of three powerful Force users.

Two weeks before the cocoon stage, and Buffy and the Scoobies, drag themselves away from their work with the ships.

The lounge area was a massive, transparent globe, reachable by a circular ramp opening up in the middle of the lounge. Buffy, Xander and Willow fell into one of the sofas; Buffy in the middle Xander to her right and Willow curled up on her left with her head resting on Buffy's shoulder. Buffy softly whimpered, Xander groaned and Willow sighed. After several long moments, Buffy quietly cursed, "That sonovabitch . . ."

To her side, Xander coughed, licked his dry lips and deliberately took a deep breath. "Palpatine was a bastard, all right. Two hundred ships, with a crew of 2,200 . . .I can't begin to guess why no one even considered sabotage."

"Palpatine was sneaky," said Willow softly. "Now we know he was Sith, but back then he was only a visiting dignitary to the ships' yard. It would have been easy for him to fake interest in the workers, go from ship to ship, feigning good will, touching things-The usual Politician Takes A Tour stuff."

"All the while, Palpatine is hexing the ships with every loving touch," Xander said sardonically.

"Cursing," Willow corrected.

"Cursing, hexing-Tomato, _toe_mato," Buffy interjected impatiently, shrugging her right shoulder. "Hmm, it makes a twisted sense, though. Consider, Palpatine favored the new star destroyer design over the old dreadnought type; he also had axes to grind-Right and left. With the fleet lost, those folks would have been especially hard hit and, oh, so screwed! Palpatine would have gotten political capital from his rivals' humiliation and fall, _and_ considerable support from rival shipyards and companies. Overall, he'd expended a little bit of dark energy and raked in a huge profit-With no one, not even the Jedi, noticing his activities."

Each of them mulled over their own thoughts and the last eleven _exhausting_ hours they had put into digging out and neutralizing Palpatine's nasty secret. Searching through each individual ship with their Force senses, they located the pulsing, angry blotches of dark energies contaminating each vessel. Whenever they could, they exorcised and dispersed the energies. Other times, they had to physically cut out the infected part and dispose of it instead of salvaging or recycling it.

Slowly, each tired and exhausted mind began the gentle transition into sleep. Buffy noticed Xander's snores and Willow's sighing breath-Buffy struggled to stay awake but only succeeded in taking longer to fall asleep. Her final conscious _sight_ was the massive planet Jupiter drifting out in space.

Buffy's final conscious _thoughts_ settled on the pickle brine-where she had a dozen squirrel carcasses soaking. Like she slipped to Xander, raising an _army_ of flesh eating zombies was currently out of the question, but she could hand make about a dozen little prezzies for a few deserving people. She even had the ribbons and wrapping paper picked out-Now, the only real challenge was in preserving them well enough that no odor escaped the packaging. Since formaldehyde negated the reanimation spell it had to be something cruder.

Oh, Xander! Buffy considered her peacefully, snoring, friend and self-appointed keeper with great fondness, if you only knew . . .With that last thought, Buffy fell asleep.

Two weeks later, the gang stood on the observation deck, and watched the final procedure and step towards their own little fleet.

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"There! It's finally finished!"

A triumphant tortoise shuffled back and viewed his new ride. Sim held the hot soldering iron in one clawed, scaly paw. The cord plugged into a socket, wired up to a large battery.

Suddenly, an unbelievable blast of noise and foul air hit him hard enough, to cause Sim to jump as high as a tortoise could jump! The newly released hot soldering iron clattered and thumped down on bare rock and sand. Sim cursed and retrieved the tool, glad and relieved he had prepared the area before setting up the iron.

"Wat'za mean? Watz finished?" A slurred voice demanded.

Sim momentarily ignored the voice-he slipped the iron back into its coil stand and unplugged it. Then he faced the 'voice'-A disreputable gray rabbit swaying in an invisible breeze. The rabbit's name was Eree and he looked like the drunken creature he was. Sim observed in disapproval the red, bleary eyes squinting in the sunlight. The cockeyed ears and worse, the sloshing human child's toy tea cup Eree griped tightly in one paw.

"My tortoise car," Sim grandly gestured to his creation-To be frank and honest, most of it was the doing of a human, in his late teens, who had been vamped nearly a week before he had found it. A toy, the human, was going to enter in a race with other radio controlled home made vehicles. After getting vamped, he was still going to enter, and win after he ate the rest of the contestants and judges; however, a little, blond girl dusted him before he could do much of anything. Even if someone else made the frame, the cradle and webbing and the paw controls, those were _his_ additions. With the modifications, the six wheeled, treaded vehicle became _his _creation!

Eree took a noncommittal sip from his cup, squinted at the vehicle and, unexpectedly, released another loud, long burp! Causing Sim to once again jump for the sky!

"Uh-huh, so watz it do?" The rabbit used his free paw to scratch his furry rear while eyeing the contraption.

Sim still trying to calm his racing heart, suddenly felt his temper escaping and he sputtered out-"Watz-What does it do? It's got wheels! It moves-_fast_! In fact, once I'm in there, neither demon nor human will be able to catch me!"

"Hmm . . .Watz that thingy over there," Eree waved a vague paw in the direction of the fire extinguisher, encased on top of the vehicle, above the battery. The rabbit swayed and nearly toppled to the side.

The Tortoise snapped his beak in irritation. "That is a fire extinguisher-It'll help push the vehicle even faster!"

"Oh," Eree said, he looked thoughtful. Then he took another sip from his toy teacup, released another ear-busting burp and said, "Nope. It ain't gonna work-It's still too slow."

Sim gaped at the drunken rabbit, and exploded: "What do you mean it's too slow! It's faster then you! You hopped up, long eared, gaseous, drunken freak!"

Eree giggled and grinned. "Nope. Sure, I'm-I'm all those things, but I'm still faster then this hunk of junk!"

"Are not!"

"Are too!"

"Are not!" Sim howled in rage.

"Are too!" Eree smirked. "And I can prove it . . .I'll race ya! I'll even do one better and put up a whole case of chocolate. That way we race for proper stakes-Not just bragging rights! 'Cause, thats nice too."

"If you can put up a case of chocolate, then I can put up a keg of beer!" Sim glared.

"Ooooh! Thats a good one!" Eree approved. "See, tomorrow morning, we meet up at the dry creek, next to the black oak-Start the race there; go towards Howler hill, cross the road, keep going until we hit Spencer cemetery. Winner is the first to cross the lawn. We begin when the bottom of the Sun hits the treetops; so, are ya with me?"

"With you? Don't be silly! I'll pass you and make you eat my dust!"

"Tchz the spirit!" Eree slurred. Then he burped.

High in the tree branches, unobserved by either rabbit or tortoise a gleeful squirrel clapped and rubbed his paws together.

Late that night, Sim carefully rolled the last full beer bottle across the thorn covered path Eree the rabbit had to hop down to get to the dry creek. The tortoise told himself he could win without resorting to cheap tricks-But why chance it? Besides, he really liked chocolates.

In his comfortable burrow, Eree slept and snored in easy, and drunken, bliss.

The Sun was still behind the trees. But the birds were in full throat chorus and the day creatures were up and about. Including one impatient tortoise encased in his strange multi-wheeled and treaded vehicle.

Sim's hope of victory by forfeiture was dashed, when a staggering rabbit shuffled into the starting area. Eree was clearly drunk-even more so then he was the day before! Somewhat satisfied, Sim reasoned that if he was that far gone, how far or how fast could the alcohol stricken rabbit get?

Whatever confidence Sim had of an easy win evaporated the moment the race began. Out shot rabbit, his weaknesses forgotten and wiped away. His legs pumping, his ears pressed back closed to his body; rabbit's muscles bunched and flowed. His lean body expressing speed and strength. Rabbit's eyes so unfocused and faded, changed and took on a sharp, determined diamond glint.

The tortoise gasped-Rabbit was flying! Not running, flying! His paws indistinct blurs: every bound and leap propelled rabbit through the air-Nothing seemed to slow or stop Eree. From his place behind the rabbit, Sim saw rabbit leaping and twisting and bouncing off the sides of trees, large logs, and boulders. In his tortoise car, Sim's body was violently jolted and batted about from side to side. But the turtle car still rolled on the rutted, uneven, debris and obstacle seeded path. While he was behind, tortoise could still see the rabbit-Sim called that a good thing. Because if he had lost sight of the bunny, Sim acknowledged he might as well have gone home and delivered the keg to Eree's burrow.

A moment later, they exploded out of the underbrush and on to a smooth dirt road. Ah, what Sim's had been waiting for! He pulled the lever to the fire extinguisher and was shoved back, as the tortoise car became airborne with the _Whoosh_ of escaping chemical flame retardant!

He could hear screaming-Yes . . . it was his own voice releasing a mindless scream. Sim could barely keep the tortoise car on the road, but, oh, how exhilarating the ride was!

In a pounding heartbeat he was alongside the rabbit. And there they stayed for one, two heartbeats! Finally! The road they had to cross opened up in front of them! Sim noted with sincere relief that the road was empty of traffic.

In a heart straining moment, Sim pulled ahead and hit the blacktop with Eree a whisker behind him!

Neither saw the shadow that fell on them and most of the road. The owner of the oversized shadow followed-_A four ton, writhing blue dragon_ and it's unwanted rider, a petite, blond young woman swinging a double headed axe at it's neck! Most everyone hoped that neither rabbit nor tortoise felt pain when the fallen dragon squished and smeared them into the road.

Urk'Han, squirrel and bookie, gasped and slowly stepped away from the opera glasses he was using to keep track of the race. He gulped and turned to the crowd of squirrels hold white betting slips. Urk'Han's facial muscles twitched, he grinned weakly, "Uh, fellas? You're not going to believe this, but . . ."

Buffy heard the scream and presented a battle ready pose, with her axe ready to cleave into anything that dared showed up. She was not in the best mood, after killing a dragon that left her stranded on the other side of the town and worse, ruined her clothing with icky acidic blood!

She looked up into the trees, and _there_ were a group of squirrels holding down one squirrel while one applied wax, yet another pressed a strip of paper on the wax, another ripped off the paper. The screams followed. Worse . . .dozens of squirrels, more then Buffy ever suspected lived in Sunnydale, sat on the branches and tore up pieces of white paper, then threw them down in obvious rage!

Buffy turned and sprinted away. Vampires, demons, and _if_ necessary aliens, she could handle-But weird rodents? Nope! Buffy decided that keeping certain details to herself was as necessary as breathing!

In the secure hollow of a tree, an owl opened it golden eyes. It stared out at the white fall of paper outside it's nest, blinked once, ruffled it's feathers once and then closed it's eyes, promptly falling asleep.

Hoot!

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What? Did you actually think they were going to get hit by a _truck_?

This is goodbye, for now.

Bye!


	2. The Crankiest Colonel

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Disclaimer: I keep telling you guys-I own nothing! George Lucas and his bunch own every material and character related to _Star Wars._ Joss Whedon and his group own every material and character related to _Buffy The Vampire Slayer_. _Star Gate_ is the creation and invention of Roland Emmerich and Dean Devlin; the _Star Gate_ T. V. series came from Brad Wright and Jonathan Glassner. All _Star Gate_ related materials and characters belong to that bunch, not me!

Sorry to disappoint any Squirrel fans out there, but since this chapter was running long, I decided to drop them. Don't worry they'll be back, maybe with some new friends.

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Summary: Buffy and the Scoobies meet a cranky Colonel.

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The Crankiest Colonel

Rupert Giles' office was masterfully decorated with an eclectic collection of old and new artifacts: Polished, parquet floors complimented the heavy mahogany and glass bookcases taking up two walls. Finely woven silk rugs covered some portions of the beautiful floor. There were places on that floor, either on the silk rugs or beside them, where fine and beautiful furniture had taken up residence. Soft, ambient lights created a deep sense of comfort and ease.

Giles' office was as well appointed as any rich CEO's privileged and private workspace-Radiating a subtle aura of wealth and power. The biggest and best illustration of subtle power and wealth showed itself in the floor to ceiling windows, behind and to the sides of the huge, carved and polished desk. The planet Jupiter, with it's red spot, an eternally raging storm, seized the viewer's eyes and only with reluctance, allowed those eyes to leave it. Yes, Giles' office, in the hidden spacestation and shipyards in an orbit around Jupiter, was far different and a long way from a small library, in a Hell-haunted town's high school.

But some things remained the same-Giles polished his glasses, allowing himself a small amount of time to compose himself. His three favorite children were sitting in front of his desk. As usual, Buffy in the middle, Xander to her left, Willow to her right.

"Children, please explain to me how you managed to lose two _hundred_ expensive warships. And why did you come home in a different ship? A smaller, and inferior warship at that?"

Buffy pouted and frowned. "To start: It was Jack's fault."

"Not all of it," murmured Willow.

"Heh . . .Isn't blaming Jack like blaming yourself, Buffy?" Snorted Xander.

Buffy turned her head and glared at Xander.

No real explanation, just more confusion! Giles polished his glasses'. But then, what else could he expect from these particular triplets? He had to be patient-They had their own way of explaining things.

"But then again . . ." Willow considered. "Jack did come later. The main problem happened right after we launched the fleet from the yards-We slaved them together and hit hyperdrive, but instead of going to the designated battlefield we ended up at different coordinates. We wasted time trying to figure out why we ended up where we did-A full scan of the surrounding space, including a quantum energy scan, revealed we were not in our own universe."

"It was the Evil Trio-They sabotaged our navigation computers!" said Xander, in outrage.

Evil Trio? Hmm, Giles thought he had them right in front of him: What strange hypocrisy for his children to engage in! He shook his mental head.

"They cheated!" Buffy growled. "They sent us to another universe-Worse, yet! Because we wasted so much time figuring out where we were, the easy window back home temporarily closed on us! Oh, sure . . .we could have forced the window to open, but that would have taken a lot of power-Power we could have gotten if we caused several light years wide worth of star systems to go nova! And since there were alternatives, we decide not to the whole Glory thing in somebody else's neighborhood!"

"I will remind you that everyone was cheating," Giles said mildly. "The only way to bring parity to the different levels of technologies being used. In your case, you had the advantage of both quality and quantity-Warren, Jonathon and Andrew had a single entry. They found a way of neutralizing their opponents-And, yes it counted."

Buffy snarled; Willow sighed; Xander scowled into the floor.

Willow continued for Buffy. "The window was only temporarily close . . .All we had to do was wait until it opened again-_Months_ down the line. After talking about it we headed back to Earth. Before entering the system we cloaked the entire fleet. Good thing too, 'cause they were watching. They had had unfriendly, alien visitors before-Snake like parasites that got into a human host and took over that poor guy-Or girl! Our sensor sweeps turned up a lot of disintegrating energy contrails in the system." Willow slowly shook her head in thought. "A _lot _of traffic for a pre-space flight planet . . .We decided to park the whole fleet in the sun. The only place we felt confident no one was going to bump into them, even under cloak."

"And then we went planet side," said Xander, taking up the narrative. He was giving Buffy strange, side glances that Giles knew had to mean something worse was going to present itself eventually. He just had to wait until the children got to it. "Our sensors detected strange energy readings-Like portal energies, except they were controlled and steady. You know portal energies tend to fluctuate-But not these readings. Turns out they had a device that created artificial wormholes. No, they didn't create the thing themselves. It was an artifact left behind by a technologically superior human species. Those folks ascended to become that universe's PTBs-About as helpful, too." Xander grimaced. "You've got to understand G-man, we were stranded in an alien universe with the only out months into the future. We could have stopped and hunkered down somewhere pleasant, but we had this crazy-_And collective_-idea to see if we could use this Star Gate device to get home-Even if it meant abandoning our fleet!"

Buffy shrugged her right shoulder. "That idea was somewhat of a washout-Star Gates seemed to be a dime a dozen, in that universe. We had the ships and the means to look for an abandoned one and conduct our own experiments; staying on Earth was not a real requirement-We just felt comfortable there." Buffy sighed and admitted. "Giles, the Star Gate was under Cheyenne Mountain, under the control of the United States Airforce. That wasn't even the worse part of it! A few days after we moved into our rental house, in Colorado Springs, we found out our next door neighbor was not only a Colonel in the Airforce, but he was also second in command of Project Bluebook-Otherwise known as Star Gate Command!"

"Oh, dear . . ."

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Air Force Colonel Jack O'Neill (two L's, please!) checked his supplies-Cooler full of ice and beer . . .Check! Comfortable lawn chair . . .Check! One overworked and under appreciated Colonel . . .Check!

Aaahhh! Jack settled back in the comfortable lawn chair; cold, open can of beer in hand. Hat over his eyes and sunlight and bird song over his senses. Yes, a good day, Jack mused. No world ending crisis, the team engaged in regular people stuff: the snakes giving them a break-Oh, and beer and sunshine. Short of fishing, the day was actually shaping up to be a good day.

Up until a car glided up into the driveway next door. Off key singing to _'We Are The Champions!'_ by _Queen_, followed by the raucous noise of three young people as they exited the car. Jack caught snipes of conversations, "Oh, Buffy did you see . . .?", "What was he thinking of when he put together that . . .", "Hey! Willow! Did you check out that guy in green spandex-The one wearing . . .?". Jack sighed, he recognized his nice Jack time had just plopped down that hole.

"Hello! Mr. O'Neill! We're back!"

"Fercryin'outloud!" Jack growled. He focused his eyes on the petite, young, blond woman, standing a few yards away on the blacktop of her driveway; she was-Jack did a double take. What the hell was she wearing? "Good afternoon, Buffy! Xander and Willow! What's with the getup?" Jack flashed a vague hand motion in Buffy's direction. As the other two kids came around the car, he noticed they were wearing equally odd costumes. Whoa! That looks familiar, Jack considered. It looked like-Oh, yeah! He suddenly remembered the convention the kids were going to.

Buffy confirmed his thoughts. With a wide grin, she motioned with her head towards the large trophy the other two were hauling out of the SUV. "We won, Mr. O'Neill! I had the best costume-And, I have to say: I made a darn good Darth Revan!" Buffy bubbled jubilantly.

"Oh, that's really nice," said Jack. What was a Darth Revan, anyway? Simultaneously, his mind was trying to decide if the far side of his house was far away enough to salvage his Jack day?

"Yep!" Buffy bounced on her toes and grinned like a maniac. "You should have been there, Mr. O'Neill. There were a lot of military guys there-Army, like you."

"Airforce!"

Buffy blinked; momentary confusion on her face, then it cleared up and her face brightened again. "Military people-like you! There were even a few writers who had military experience doing signings and general sort of appearances. You would have a good time, I think, surrounded by the same sort of army people."

"Airforce!"

"Buffy! We need you over here!" Willow called out from the house's open doorway.

"Good-by, Mr. O'Neill! See you later!" In a swirl of dark robes and a bright flash of red-gold armor Buffy dashed into her house. Allowing an exasperated and frustrated Airforce Colonel to collect his beer and march off to the other side of his house. Jack groused and grumbled the whole time he was resetting his lawn chair and beer cooler. He tried to sooth his temper, but the baby geeks next door to him were a trial of his patience! Not that they were sincerely bad neighbors, Jack conceded. It was just the noise from those toy light sabers of theirs-! Jack hated to admit it, but he was becoming less tolerant of things-like, with certain sounds-as he got older.

Jack resettled himself into the lawn chair; a nice long drink from the beer can, in his hand, helping to calm him down. Ahh! That was good! Jack melted back into the chair, his mind involuntarily going back to his first meeting with his new neighbors-A trio of college kids renting the house next door. He had been off-world when they had moved in, so he was a little surprise to come home and find someone had moved in next door.

And Jack was certain, that even if senility turned most of his brain cells either into liquid or stone, that one memory of that awful first day, was going to haunt him until he died.

"Hey, Carter!" Jack called out from his backdoor. "Want another beer?"

"No, thank you, sir! I'm good!" Carter responded from the backyard.

SG-1 had come back from one of their off world missions, barely intact and while their broken bones healed, they were on medical leave until Janet gave them the OK to return to active duty. Jack took the opportunity to arrange a barbecue, on the first weekend of their enforced vacation, for his teammates, their commanding officer, and others. 'Others' included one Doctor Janet Fraiser, the diminutive, napoleonic tyrant responsible for their temporary banishment from SGC.

A bizarre, painful hiss-buzz noise cut through his brain, so suddenly Jack jumped startled, dropping the tray of uncooked steaks down to the kitchen floor!

"Sonovabitch!" Jack cursed. He bent down and picked up the tray and the steaks, gratefully he noted the steaks had stayed in the tray and the tray had landed bottom side up. With the steaks alright, Jack turned his attention to the cause of his near crisis. Whatever that sound was, it continued-It sounded vaguely familiar, and since no one was rushing about demanding either a weapon or escape Jack had to conclude that the sound was of a non emergency annoyance.

Jack followed the sound outside, carrying the tray of steaks with him. First thing he noticed was the small group that had gathered at the fence separating his property and the house next door. With greater care then he would have used before his minor mishap in the kitchen, Jack deposited the steaks on the grill. He wiped his hands on a kitchen towel and went to the gathering by the fence.

"What'cha doing?" Jack said, peering over the fence. He saw Teal'c and a young redhead girl dueling with-What the hell? Jack squinted. Where those lightsabres?! Teal'c took a swing with his lightsabre and the girl ducked; the blue blade continued on and passed right through a low hanging tree branch without any noticeable effect. Oh, Jack relaxed. Just a toy . . .A nasty internal voice snickered and demanded to know what _else_ he thought it could be? Oh, let's see . . .A _real_ lightsabre? Jack was glad was he was alone in his head-At least, Jack hoped he was along in there. 'Cause, sometimes he-Okay, Jack, he admonished himself, getting off topic here.

The girl quickly pressed her advantage-While Teal'c's blade was still raised for a down swing, she sliced hers across Teal'c's torso. If the lightsabre had been real, Teal'c would have been halved.

"Ha!" She gleefully crowed. "I win! You're dead!"

"Indeed, WillowRosenberg," Teal'c agreed. He lowered the toy lightsabre and switched it off. "If you like we can duel again."

The girl, Willow Rosenberg if Jack had translated correctly, nodded eagerly, a wide happy grin on her face. "Sure! But with those additions we talked about . . .?"

"Agreed," said Teal'c eagerly.

"Ok, Buffy!" Willow yelled. A blond girl suddenly popped out of the bushes and started lopping frisbees. Simultaneous snap-hiss signaled the resumption of the mock duel. One of the frisbees flew over Jack's head and in a direct line to the grill! It knocked over a bottle of oil straight into the grill, causing a gigantic flaming flare-up; while the troublesome toy itself landed right on the steaks! Jack twisted around in time to see the fate of his beautiful steaks, but before he could take a step forward, a frisbee hit a puzzled Samantha Carter smack dab in the middle of her forehead with a loud 'Bonk!'! Down she went like a pole-axed steer!

"Holy crap!" Jack O'Neill was known as a decisive and caring leader and commander. But when he had the duel problem of burning first grade steaks or holding up a semi-conscious Samantha Carter, Jack experienced a moment or two of extreme indecision. Fortunate for him, General George Hammond grabbed the nearby fire extinguisher and shot foamy death on the fire and his steaks.

One of the frisbees landed on the grass nearby. Jack stared in disbelief-'Grenade!' had been painted on it, in a garish pink color.

"Omigosh! Omigosh! I'm _soooo_ sorry! Is Sam alright?" Wailed a high girlish voice-It belonged to the blond girl (_Buffy_?) throwing the Frisbee grenades. What?! No 'sorry' for my steaks?! Jack thought in outrage. Carter's eyelids fluttered open. "Birds," she murmured. "I hear birds singing, sir."

Oh, fercryin'outloud-! "You hear birds, because there are birds, Carter," Jack said, patiently. Doc Frasier suddenly squatted down beside them. "Hey, Janet," Sam smiled, and winced. "Catch the number of that Jaffa?"

"No," Janet said, out came the mini-flashlight with the overpowered light bulb; Janet shinned it's light into Sam's eyes causing her to blink, squint and squirm. Jack held back his impending smirk for one reason-Janet Frasier never played favorites. If she had caught a glimpse of that smirk, Jack felt certain he would be feeling the pain of 'booster' shots! And, oh, how lame was that excuse? Jack was sure half a dozen 'booster' shots were already in his system, putting him in the black already! Maybe no one had taught Doctor Janet Frasier that too much of a good thing was a bad thing? "Sam, how many fingers am I holding up."

Sam focused, "Um, one."

"Good. Now, follow my finger-Good." Janet placed a bulging towel, handed to her by Daniel, on Sam's forehead. "Keep the ice on it. If you start feeling nauseous or dizzy we'll have to have it checked out-Hear me?"

Sam began nodding, but a sudden pain caused her to reconsider any sudden movement. She winced, "Sure, Janet. No problem, aside from the headache I'm going to have."

Janet smiled. "For the headache, I can tell you to take an aspirin."

"And call you in the morning," Sam smirked. With the Colonel's help, Sam made it to her feet, wobbled a moment before regaining her balance.

A worried Daniel hovered nearby. "Are you okay, Sam?" He asked softly.

"Yeah," Sam said, hold the towel with the ice against her injury. "Yeah, I'll be okay. I've been hit worse . . ."

But never by a stray frisbee grenade! Jack guessed brightly. That was a thought he decided not to articulate, recalling at the last moment Janet's endless supplies of needles.

"Oh, gosh . . .I'm so, so sorry," Buffy repeated, wringing her empty hands. "Sam . . .Your steaks . . ."

Ah! Ha! _Now _she mentions the steaks! Jack glared.

"It's okay, Buffy," Sam murmured, allowing Daniel and Janet to guide her back to one of the chairs.

No! It was not alright! Jack bellowed inside his head, fixating on the important thing. My steaks are ruined!

"Um . . .Hi, I'm Buffy," said Buffy, hesitantly. "Buffy Summers. And these are my friends and roommates, Willow Rosenberg and Xander Harris. We just moved in, and . . .Oh, this is a bad first introduction-Let me make it clear we're not planning on making this sort of disaster into a habit."

"No, oh, no!" Willow agreed. She appeared beside Buffy; the toy lightsabre in hand. "Bonking newly met neighbors, on the head with frisbees, is so not us."

"Or cremating perfectly good steaks!" A dark haired young man said, walking up behind the girls. Xander, Jack presumed. At least the young man had a sense of priorities!

"Please, please forgive me!" Buffy pleaded. "Tell you what? Why don't you join us? We have plenty of food-Including steak!"

Jack hesitated . . .He snuck a glance back at his grill and noted the extensive foam covering concealing it from sight. Cursing and mentally going over his takeout options, Jack reluctantly acknowledged how limited those options were. He wavered, and finally caved, when a whiff of grilled beef invaded his senses.

Okay, Jack admitted at a later date, it was really very good steak. And yes, everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves-Even Carter, who ended up sporting a bruise, right in the middle of her forehead; that did a fierce imitation of a squinting, third eye. Admittedly, the only reason Jack kept quiet about it, was fear of Janet's needles.

In the days that followed, Carter did successfully cover the bruise with makeup. However, it made the knot look like the world's biggest zit about ready to pop! Jack, being an officer and gentleman, decline to comment on it-But only because Janet was hanging around shooting death glares at him. Yeash, being a doctor, Janet should have had more, and better, things to do then threaten him! In that non-verbal, threatening way of hers . . .

Yep! Jack reflected, back in his lawn chair. He fished out a fresh beer can from the cooler, shook off the melted ice water from it, and pulled the tab. Taking a deep gulp from it, he lowered the can with a satisfied sigh that turned into a deep, loud burp. That was one awful day . . .Worse, yet, the others (Even _Carter,_ for god's sake!) thought he was overreacting! Okay, okay . . .Jack was honest enough to admit, albeit privately, he may have gone a little, teeny, bit on the extreme side having Carter run _three_ security checks on his new neighbors. The fourth was going to be the last, Jack swore. But, before he could get Carter on it, one of Daniel's damn rocks grew legs and a mouth; then it started chewing away on the rest of Danny's rocks! After that, Carter always seemed too busy . . .

A shadow slide across him. Jack looked up-Speak of the devil, he thought.

"Mr. O'Neill?" Buffy Summers was still in that weird costume of hers, with what looked like a helmet in her right hand. Her left hand and arm clutched a large book to her body. The book looked old, and instincts told Jack Danny was involved.

"Mr. O'Neill?" Buffy repeated. "If you see Daniel, can you give him this book? He said he wanted to borrow it for his work. He said it was extremely important. And, I am sorry I have to bother you like this, but you are the only contact I have for Daniel-And he did say it was urgent."

Danny . . ."Yeah, sure," Jack smiled, and accepted the surprisingly heavy book with his free hand. "I'll even tell him you said 'Hi!' for you."

"That sounds great, Mr. O'Neill! But could you tell him to call? I left my 'phone number and email address in a slip of paper inside the book."

"Sure, sure," Jack said, balancing the book on the chair's armrest. "In fact, I think he'll ca-"

A flash of blinding white light enveloped both Jack and Buffy. When it faded away, they were both gone. The ancient book, balanced on the white plastic armrest, teetered uncertainly for a moment then finally tipped over-Falling into the still warm seat, unexpectedly vacated by one Colonel Jack O'Neill.

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Yep, yep its a cliffhanger!

Sorry the story is so long, but ordinarily I would have counted this as a first draft, and edited and cut as needed. But since I didn't have the time I'm presenting it as is. Maybe at some future time, I'll have the opportunity to make alterations to it.

Thanks and goodbye, for now!


	3. Reach For The Sky!

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Disclaimer: Guys and gals-You realize I own nothing here, right? All _Buffy The Vampire Slayer_ characters and materials belong to Joss Whedon and his group. This story is inspired and somewhat based on a _Darwin Award_ story titled "_Mortar Fire_". Darwin has not confirmed it. But, regardless of whether it is a work of imagination or genuine stupidity I liked and enjoyed it.

The Squirrels are back, and they did bring friends.

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Summary: Thieving rodents, flying frozen turkeys, and flying squirrels.

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Reach For The Sky!

Chief of Sunnydale Police Bob was not having a good day. His house was being burglarized! He had been captured, and put away in the closet under the staircase-The _tiny _closet under the stairs. Currently, Chief Bob was in a contorted position; hog-tied with ties, gagged with an apple and a tie, ground beef shoved into his ears: the silk tie used as a blindfold kept slipping down. But old hand and resident of Sunnydale, Bob's eyes were squinted shut and were likely to remain that way.

In the attached garage, an argument was taking place between two of the burglars.

"Dude! This is soooo not gonna work!" Jojo the rat gestured to the sealed end of a pipe. Geez! It had been an easy enough job-Even after the fat dude came home early. They had tripped him up in his own dark living room, and tied and gagged him while he was sprawled out, stunned on the floor. After a monumental effort of pushing, prodding, rolling, and shoving-Not to mention a few good whacks to his overpadded rear, they finally got the guy into that little closet under the stairs!

They had cleaned out the place of anything edible-Except for that dusty can of okra, in the corner of one of the cupboards. Yuck! Why buy it in the first place? That single can aside, the only thing left in the kitchen was a good size frozen turkey.

A really, really good-sized bird.

Jojo had voted for leaving it. Or cutting it up into smaller, manageable pieces. He had argued it was just too big to transport through the pipe they had used to get into the house. But Kal's eyes were shinning greed, and so, with almost the same effort they used to get the fat dude into the closet, they shove that gigantic turkey right up the pipe! Predictably, halfway through, it got stuck.

Not in the least deterred . . .Kal looked around the garage; beady black eyes settled on a welding kit and the tanks next to it. He got an idea.

If he had been listening to his rat instincts, Jojo should have been a good distance away from the house by that point. In fact, he should have still been running! Instead, he helped Kal weld a thick metal rectangle to the round end of the pipe and drill a hole in the pipe. About that time his survival sense finally kicked its way into his awareness-Jojo insisted on a rag fuse. They filled the pipe up with oxygen and acetylene.

Good thing for that rag fuse. Good thing they had retreated to the far end of the house. Good thing for Chief Bob he had meat in his ears.

The explosion picked up both rats and a fusion of wood, wiring and drywall-along other, unidentifiable debris-and threw them into intact walls! Jojo experienced pain in every portion of his rat body, even as he rose from the pile of smoldering debris he had been buried under! But nothing was broken or needed fixing-Well not everything. He calmly noted another rat-What was his name, again? Oh, yeah . . .Kal-gesturing to a couple of hair net bags filled with caviar and Brie. Why was Kal miming? Why was there a ringing in his ears? Wait! Why was everything so silent?!

At that point, Kal picked up one f the bags, swung it over his shoulder and ran away! Crap! Jojo took it as his cue to do the same!

High above the trees tops a modified toy helicopter buzzed and flew. Its living passengers, two young adventurous squirrels, stared in wonder and awe around them.

"See? Jee'rol? Squirrels were meant to fly!" Pronounced Ha'vel gleefully, piloting the helicopter.

"Yes, indeed!" Jee'rol agreed. He paused, peered closely at a growing black dot. "Ha'vel? Does that look like a turkey to you?"

Buffy plodded along the back roads, not wanting any one to see her in the frightful condition she was in-Her clothing and shoes were torn, bloodied and ruined. Worse yet, her hair had mixtures of sticky demony body fluids and blood stretching her hair out in stiff spikes and knots. Then, to top off everything-heavy, dark soot covered her from head to toe!

Movement caused her to look up. Slayer eyesight saw what normal human eyes would have missed-A frozen turkey missile hitting a toy helicopter dead on, but not before a couple of squirrels parachuted out of it!

A sudden noise jerked Buffy's head down-Two rats, wearing hoodies and basketball shorts running away on three legs: They were clutching hairnet bags filled with cheese and tins of caviar.

Buffy tilted her head, sighed and hoped that whatever was in the soot she had breathed in wore off before dinner.

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Here it is . . .the Squirrel story I more or less promised to post.

In case anyone hasn't notice-No rodents were harmed in the writing of this story.

Bye!


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